Page 24 of Following Their Heart

Backing her against the wall, I whisper in her ear, “Maybe this is the real Jud. Maybe the one you’ve gotten to know has realized what a jerk he’s been.”

Her look is equal parts suspicious and skeptical.

I chuckle and give her space. “Come on, kitten, let’s give you the grand tour.”

Chapter 10

Cora

The bomb shelteris not what I expected. Neither is Jud. I guess this is a day for surprises.

My big grump saunters through the shelter like a proud real estate agent. “Over here, we have the kitchen, complete with two-burner stove, microwave-convection-oven combo, fridge, dishwasher, and sink. Granite countertops and pine cabinets complete the modern look.”

I tear my gaze away from the strangeness that is Jud smiling, and I take my first good look around the bomb shelter. The space is like Grim’s camper but larger, brighter, newer, and windowless. The walls are curved and corrugated, like the inside of a culvert, telling me there’s storage space beneath the flat floor. The culvert metal has been textured and painted to look more like a regular interior wall.

The front half is one open room with a kitchen, dining nook, and a living area with a couch, chair and entertainment center. The color scheme is white and naturals. Throw rugs all over the wood-look floor give the space a homey feel. A hallway as wide as Jud’s shoulders leads to what appear to be a bedroom and a compact bath at the far end.

“Here’s your ham radio kit.” Jud slaps a hand on a crate-sized box of knobs and dials set into protective casing. Along with a pair of TVs and some technical-looking stuff, the radio unit takes up nearly the entire top of a desk mounted to the wall. “Monitors for keeping an eye on the camp. Coms linking to my office in the lodge.” He pats each item in turn, then backtracks to the closed portal door. “On the other side of the mudroom is a pod with the life support systems. Power comes from solar panels on the surface plus an underground diesel generator backup. For water filtration, we’ve got sixty pounds of charcoal. There’s propane for heat and cooking, and the air is completely cleaned and circulated every hour.”

“Wow.” I’m impressed. Jud called the kitchen modern, but really, the whole shelter looks like an article in a minimalist-home magazine. It’s spacious with lots of built-in cabinets and drawers telling me the space is functional in that modern way Shep would really appreciate. “It’s like Winnebago and IKEA had a bombproof baby,” I say.

Jud chuckles. “My kitten has a way with words.” He rests a hip against the kitchen counter, looking even more massive than usual in the camper-sized space. He can’t stand to his full height except in the very center.

“They didn’t have a seven-foot ceiling option at the bomb shelter store?”

“We asked, but their service department was understaffed.”

Jud’s making jokes. I give my head a little shake.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say, maybe a little too quickly. I don’t want to ruin his good mood by questioning it. I try holding his gaze, but it’s like staring at the sun. I have to look away. Since he’s standing by the microwave, I study the button panel and notice it still has that protective filmy shield.

I can’t help myself. I close the space between us and reach past Jud’s arm. My fingernail works as a scraper to lift the edge of the film. Then I peel it off with a satisfying staticky noise.

Jud barks out a laugh that startles me. “Thought you were comin’ in for some sugar.”

I snort and roll my eyes, but I have to admit being this close to him is nice.

He puts his hands on my hips and tugs me closer. “We are in the kitchen, after all.” He shares his heat with me. Even through his T-shirt and vest, and through my flannel shirt, the warmth of his big body melts into my skin. And he smells so good. Being with Jud inside is like always having the outdoors with me.

I swallow. “More of a kitchenette, I’d say. But I don’t need any sugar right now.” I wave the clear film at him. “I got what I needed.” Clearly, I’m lying through my teeth, because I’m pressing myself against him tighter than the film hugged the microwave.

“In that case—” Jud slips out from between me and the counter. “We might as well continue the tour.” Leaving me by the counter, cold and interested, he points out the bedroom and bath. A king-size bed sits on a storage platform. Blocky stairs, each with a drawer in it, provide access to the bed, and underneath is a cubby lined with cabinets and drawers.

He points out features of the bathroom next, but I’m not paying attention. Well, that’s not exactly true. My focus is totally on Jud, just not on what he’s saying. Instead, I’m studying the bulging biceps and triceps barely contained by his short-sleeved cotton T-shirt. Also, the massive circumference of his chest filling out the hunting vest he always wears with all its pockets filled with keys and tools. And don’t get me started on his over-the-top masculinity.

Jud has some energy about him that makes him seem even larger than his six-foot-eight frame. He exudes power, and I find that power irresistible. I shouldn’t. I should be done with anyone stronger than me who can hurt me and force me into things. But with Jud, I don’t have any fear. At least not fear of physical harm. Emotions are another story with this sensitive man. But not even fear of his mercurial mood shifts can curb my body’s reaction to him.

“And the best part is—” He’s in the main area now, and he flips up a cream-colored throw rug to reveal a panel in the floor. When he squats to pull up the panel, it puts his butt on display.

Gah!I’ve never had a thing for man-butt before, but Jud’s makes my mouth water. The bunched muscles beneath his cargo pants make me want to knead and nibble.

“All the supplies are stored under the floor,” he says. “Here’s a three-hundred-gallon tank of water.” Pat, pat. “There’s another in the next panel, and we’ve got all the dry food, canned food, and paper goods you could need for a whole year. There’s water, rice, beans, pasta, soups, canned meats, toilet paper, batteries. Just find the panels in the floor, and you’ve got your one-stop shop for supplies.”

He's gesturing into the hole in the floor, but I’m not interested in whatever’s down there. My interests are far less practical.

“Can you show me the bedroom again?”

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